To hate someone, you must have loved them that much… said I, when my daughter asked why she could neither love nor hate a woman we once knew. My son who was listening to this conversation, quietly replied, “I hate her…” and continued, “… cos I loved her that much.” He looked at me like he was searching through me for his soul and said, “Dada, I loved her more than I love you. I truly loved her.” I said I know. He went on to tell me that he would take the liberty to argue with her cos he knew that she would be there when the storm settles too. “It’s that comfort every child has with their mother,” he said and continued, “…now that she has abandoned, left us and doesn’t want to even talk to us, I too want to be reactionless, neither love nor hate her like Rachael and you are able to do; for now, I hate her…”
It was then that I realized that hate too is a melting ball of sweetness flowing from a hardened heart.
Looking at an old photo of my son lying on his tummy, I saw the glowing smile in his eyes, the stubborn comfort in the love assured to him and the mischief in his determination to move forward. I felt hopelessly guilty for having taken that from him. He smiles today, yet with no happiness within. The monsters that devoured this happiness off my child hover my sleep as nightmares. Anger, is something that comes as love and hate overlap and betrayal is all the blind can see - a state that I am in now.
